


Fallen

by Cherub_Heart



Series: Together to be Apart, Who Falls First? [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Clingy TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible Resurrection, Protective Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Tags May Change, Tommy is recovering, Villain!Dream, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Winged!Philza, Winged!Technoblade, Winged!Tommyinnit, Winged!Wilbur Soot, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29836020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherub_Heart/pseuds/Cherub_Heart
Summary: With Tommy seemingly permanently grounded and the ghost of his brother wandering about, Phil and Techno have a bit to worry about. It isn't as if Tommy has become unnervingly attached to the few people around him and it isn't as if Ghostbur's presence is making the days pass slower.Hopefully Phil can do something to sort out the increasing stress of having his dead son around.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Phil Watson & Technoblade - Relationship, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Tommyinnit & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Together to be Apart, Who Falls First? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184888
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	1. Boundless and Trapped

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to the sequel to Clipped :) I had a friend vote unknowingly and this was the option that was picked
> 
> Updates might be a bit slow because I can feel the writer's block trying to force itself into my brain but hopefully I'll be able to get this completed soon

Everything aches.

The first night Tommy woke up with damaged wings, he couldn't move. It was as if he was drowning, or being buried under snow, his body wouldn't listen to him. He smelled like a health potion and iron. His spine was numb and his heartbeat was lost in the muscle of his wings. All he could do was lay there in a bed, two familiar presences looming in the background as he did his best to hold back tears. It didn't take long for the realization to settle; he's grounded. 

_ He can't fly, he's stuck, he'll never be able to taste freedom again, he's  _ **_trapped_ ** . 

The dam broke and a pitiful sob escaped him, followed by strangled attempts to not scream in sorrow. Arms held him as grief forced itself into his chest and limbs, breaking him over and over and over again. A dull echo of pain formed at his stump of a wing. Despite everything, empty feelings nestling themselves into his missing feathers, a mockery of something he’s lost. Salt in the wound.

  
  
  


Tommy's wings hurt.

Even if half was missing and one just… didn't work, the phantom pains made his muscles sting and ache. It used to keep him up at night, long dark skies passing by his suffering. Nowadays, whenever the discomfort gets too much, he'll quietly climb into Phil's bed, pressing as close to his side as possible. It became muscle memory for Phil to push Tommy's hair back or rub small circles into his shoulder in his sleep. In the morning, a silent agreement that neither of them would talk about it unless Tommy wanted to.

Phil wasn't here, though. Phil was out hunting and getting supplies while Tommy pressed his face into Techno's chest, a loose grip on his clothes. Slow, stuttery breaths pass him as another prick of pain ripples down his spine. His wing burns, missing skin and flesh and muscle begging for relief. The feeling of Techno's hand combing back his hair is nice, at least. 

Slow, soothing movement distracts Tommy from his wings as he curls further into his brother. Despite enjoying the distraction, Tommy tugs on Techno's arm slightly–not for any reason particularly, more so just a jittery reaction. Techno doesn't seem to mind, letting out a low hum as he looks out the window. 

The sun hangs low, barely a cloud in the sky as waves of blues and pinks and oranges fade over the hills and trees. Just enough sunlight peaks into their home, lighting the walls and rooms with a deep golden hue. With the pretty and open sight, it annoys Techno that he can't see Phil anywhere. He feels Tommy shift around against his side before finally settling with his face leaning against the other's chest, his ear right over Techno's heartbeat. Tommy's the first to break the silence with a small whisper.

"Are you gonna go look for Phil?" The teen does his best to mask the disappointment and fear in his voice. He hasn't been left alone since Dream lost one of his lives, either Techno or Phil always by his side. Tommy, of course, complained about the constant monitoring. There's no real bite behind his complaining, both Techno and Phil noticing the way Tommy relaxes with either of them nearby. 

"No, I'm sure Phil's gonna be home soon anyway," Techno glances down at Tommy, noticing how the teen's already looking at him. Tommy scrunches his face at him, acting disgusted. Techno huffs and ruffles Tommy's hair before stretching up, wings twitching out of their tense state. 

"Oh you prick–" Tommy starts, trying to fix his disheveled hair, smiling. The slow waves of pain numb into a dull thumping in his chest as his hand grabs onto Techno's loose sleeve. Techno makes no move to remove it as he talks.

"Do you want some food? It's about time for dinner." Tommy pauses, before giving a small nod. Techno gives another small hum before standing and moving towards the kitchen tiredly. Tommy doesn't let go the entire time as Techno cooks potato soup, sometimes helping by handing over vegetables and utensils. The kitchen is quiet aside from the occasional  _ chop _ or  _ clink _ . 

Ever since Dream's last visit, Tommy's boisterous personality grew stagnant, he hadn't spoken to Techno or Phil for days. Barely eating or cleaning himself as he rotted in his despair. He refused to let anyone near his wings, the slightest touch sending him into a fit of hysteria, sobbing and screaming his throat raw. Only recently had he started eating and talking. Despite the worse and worse conditions his wings spiral into, he still rejects any attempts to preen him. He's making progress, at least.

A single quick knock followed by a long pause and two long knocks reverbs into the walls before the front door opens and shuts. Tommy perks his head up, looking towards the opening of the door, waiting for Phil to enter. He's got an arm wrapped around Techno's hanging hand, his foot tapping lightly against the wood planks. Techno continues stirring the pot, wings ruffling slightly at the noise. 

It's only a moment longer before Phil walks into the kitchen, placing his hat down and letting out a tired sigh. He's got a pack full of firewood and meats slung against his back. He rests it against the table and undoes the clips that hold it up, turning and emptying it as he hums. Tommy moves to latch onto Phil, a loose grip on his cloak and sleeve. The action gets a smile out of Phil as he glances at the teenager's hand. 

"Hello Tommy, " Phil starts, a smile still on his face as he turns to face his son, "How're you feelin'?"

Tommy stays silent, mock-pondering before shrugging, pressing himself closer to Phil and resting his chin against his shoulder. Phil gives a single laugh before returning to unpacking and humming. Tommy watches as Techno turns on the nearby lanterns and grabs three wooden bowls.

_ Knock knock knock _ .

The three of them freeze, Phil looking up to lock eyes with Techno. A silent conversation passes between them before Techno kills the fire. He leaves the room and audibly grabs his sword and axe. Phil's running a hand across Tommy's shoulder, when did he start shaking? Techno's voice sounds distant and gruff as he raises his voice to talk through the door.

"Who is it? Can't a guy have a peaceful retirement?" Tommy's hearing strains as the sound of a sword raising. 

_ "Can I come in, please Techno?"  _ a light, airy voice replies. 

Instantly, the sound of the spruce door swinging open echoes into the house.

"Oh gods, Ghostbur?" The surprise and relief in Techno's voice overpower the built-up anxiety in Tommy. As the door closes, the faded blue shape of Ghostbur floats into the kitchen, a tired smile dancing across his face. Where his legs would be is just hollow space, where his legs end dripping like melted candle wax. 

_ "Hello! Tommy, where have you been? I've been looking for you!" _ He says, voice echoing as if he was in a cave. Phil's eyebrows knot as he strains a smile.

"Oh Ender, Ghostbur, what happened to your legs?" Phil moves over to the ghost, Tommy following right after.

_ "Well, you see, I came back to Logstedshire so I could help Tommy build but he wasn't there! So I went looking for him and got caught up in all the snow. I remember you and Techno saying something about living out in the snow so I started wandering, but the snow started melting me, I saw Carl outside and that's how I got here! _

_ It's a good thing too, I probably would've completely melted if I stayed out there much longer!"  _ Ghostbur explains, an uncomfortable happiness in his voice. His blank eyes move from Phil to Tommy, his smile widening. 

_ "I've missed you Tommy!"  _ He exclaims lightly. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small semi-opaque blue crystal. He cups his hands around it despite its size and holds it out towards Tommy. Hesitating, Tommy slowly grabs the crystal, an uneasy weight in his palm as it cools his hand. Phil watches as the teen closes his palm around the object, seeping blue beginning to plume within seconds in his grasp. It’s a bit upsetting eyeing the once translucent object, now a deep, thick navy blue. Tommy watches his palm as Techno enters again, moving around everyone to pour out soup for the still-living three.

It’s quiet as Wilbur moves to assist Techno in setting out the bowls, Phil feeling Tommy’s restless wing shift against his as he presses his back into the dark feathers. Phil turns his head towards Tommy as he whispers.

“You alright mate? You seem tense.” Phil runs a hand against Tommy’s arm, watching how Tommy dips his head slightly at his concerned tone.

“He’s gonna talk about  _ them _ . He’s gonna say something and he won’t–he won’t–” Tommy stutters, barely able to get his worry across before Phil hushes him. He moves his hand palm-up and it only takes a moment for Tommy to grab it, silently fiddling with his fingers as a distraction.

“It’s alright, Tommy. You can just tell him you don’t want to talk about it, or me or Techno can tell him not to talk about it.” He pauses, considering his next words. “Or, if you want, we can just… bind up your wings for now and let them down later.”

The words barely pass Phil’s lips before Tommy shakes his head no, sighing. 

“I just–," he opens Phil's palm, gently hitting the side of his fist into it, "Can you tell him just… not to mention it…?" He glances up at Phil, anxiety ebbing into his thoughts. They dissolve as soon as he sees Phil's soft smile. (Just for him, just for Tommy. Only reserved for when he's nervous or overthinking or stressed, a look just for him.) 

"Of course Toms, go ahead and eat, I'll take Wilbur into the other room." With a slow nod, Phil's wing moves away from Tommy's back. Tommy's half-wing presses flat against his back, his limp one lifted from the ground in a sling. Phil draws Ghostburs' attention away before the ghost can get a clear glimpse, leading him into the next room.

Tommy stands there for a moment, waiting to hear either Phil or Ghostbur speak before being distracted by Techno. He's leaning back in his chair, tapping his spoon in a slow, familiar rhythm against the table. The spoon hits echoes of a gentle melody both of them barely remember. With a glance from Techno, Tommy moves to sit down to eat. It's quiet as Tommy scarfs down his food, Techno waiting for Phil and Ghostbur to return.

It's only a few moments before they do, Phil with a tired smile similar to Ghostbur's. Tommy's wing only tenses further against himself as Ghostbur sits across from him, holding out another clear crystal, blue bleeding into it from the ghost's fingertips. Tommy takes it with a small hum, returning the small crystal he'd been given earlier. Ghostbur whispers to Tommy as Techno and Phil talk amongst themselves and eat.

_ "Tommy! I have a special gift for you!"  _ Ghostbur says excitedly, wax-melting wings flaring up slightly. Tommy perks up slightly, blue eyes focusing on completely white ones.

_ "It's a secret special gift, though, I gotta give it to you in private." _ The idea of a gift sparks a rarely touched upon excitement in Tommy, for a split second childish youth passes through years of war and bloodshed, and just as fast as it came, it left. 

Tommy rushes through the rest of his meal, giving a quick "Thank you!" to Techno and picking up a winter cloak specially made for him. The cloak covers his wings, hiding them away and warming them as night settles in. Tommy watches as Ghostbur moves towards Phil and Techno, a mockingly serious look on his face.

_ Phil! Techno! I need you two to stay in here whilst me and Tommy go, uh… somewhere else!"  _

"Mmm… alright Ghostbur, just not outside alright?" Phil clarifies before adding, "Techno and I'll be making a cake later if you'd like a slice, Tommy."

With acknowledgments and agreements settled, Tommy leads Ghostbur upstairs towards his bedroom. Creeping anxiety crawls up his throat but he does his best to push it back down. He can trust Ghostbur, Ghostbur wouldn't hurt him, he's still his brother. 

Even if he's just a fragment of Wilbur, it's still Wilbur. Even if he can't remember the wars and bloodshed and hysteria it's still him. Even if Tommy tries his best to be angry and upset with him, he can't. 

No matter how hard Tommy tries not to care, he's grasping at straws for things that let him feel safe; no matter how hard he tries, Wilbur will always be the one who held him and cared for him as a child. Even with all that Wilbur did near the end of his life, he never stopped being his brother, despite how much Tommy wished he wasn't. Every time Tommy fell, Wilbur was the first to pick him up, he was the first to dust the dirt off his back and the first to push him forward. Ghostbur can't do that, he can't do much aside from forget and ignore the problems he sees. They might be the same figure, but they're not the same person. Even if Ghostbur's here, Tommy misses Wilbur. 

Tommy shakes his head, attempting to clear away the thoughts plaguing him. Ghostbur walks obliviously behind him, following the teen into his room. The most he does is push the door partially closed behind him before digging through his pockets. 

_ "I really do hope you like this, Tommy. I was thinking, and I thought what does Tommy like? What is his favorite thing in the whole world?" _ Ghostbur turns around to face Tommy, his smile brighter than before, his hands closed, held out in front of him. Tommy watches with wide eyes as Ghostbur opens his hands, a small compass pointing off and barely moving.  _ "Tubbo! I know you really like Tubbo, Tommy, and I know you really, really miss him. _

_ It's Your Tubbo! You'll always know that he'll be with you, even if he's far away. It'll always point directly at him."  _

Tommy stares at the small compass, the needle pointing straight and assured.  _ Tubbo _ . A little bee pin rests right as the base of the needle,  _ Your Tubbo _ scrawled in neat handwriting along the top of it. Everything freezes for a moment, the beating of his heart echoing in his ears.  _ Tubbo _ . Thoughts and emotions forcing themselves behind Tommy’s eyes. Memories of childhoods long since erased and bloodshed together play in his mind. He staggers a breath in, almost choking on it as he slowly holds a hand out. Fingers enclose around freezing iron and his breath hitches.  _ Tubbo _ . It slowly warms in his grasp, a pulse of its own beating in his palm. Slow, comforting pulses, following a body.  _ Tubbo. _ Tears pool in his eyes, cold as they stream down his face. 

No words pass between them as Ghostbur holds Tommy, freezing and empty and phasing. Ghostbur runs a thin hand through Tommy’s hair, memories held on by threads as the movement sparks déjà vu in his mind. Years and years of fog melt away as Tommy wraps his arms around Ghostbur, mumbling out a hiccuping “Thanks” as he tries not to flinch at the cold.

  
  


The kitchen’s quiet as Techno and Phil move around, busying themselves with cracking eggs and whisking frosting respectively. The relative silence is only broken as Techno speaks under his breath.

"Are you gonna ask him?" Phil slows his movements just a smidge. It's enough for Techno to push further. 

"Ask who what?" Phil questions, glancing towards Techno. His wings shifting slightly, puffing.

"I saw what you were researching, Phil. I saw the books that talk about resurrection, bringing the dead back. Do you even know if Wilbur wants to come back? I mean– didn't he make it pretty obvious that he wanted to… y'know."

Phil keeps his eyes down as he works, his voice grim.

"The Wilbur I killed wasn't the same Wilbur I raised. The one I killed lost his mind in the ravine and forced his younger brother through Hell. The Wilbur that left home with Tommy would never do that. I want to bring back the Wil that died long before the sword." 

Silence weighs down the room for long moments before it finally snaps.

"You should at least see if he wants to be brought back and if Tommy wants him back, too." 

The dismal wall Phil put up crumbles, letting out a saddening sigh as his body slumps. Techno watches, guilt creeping up his spine before relenting, moving and placing a hand against his father's shoulder. 

"It's okay, dad," The word stutters on his lips, "Just… Now's not the time to think about it, let's just finish this, Tommy might start complaining if we don't finish this soon." He weakly jokes, getting a small huff from Phil. 

  
  


Time flies as they finish baking and frosting the cake and just as they finish, a tired-looking Tommy totters into the room, Ghostbur trailing just behind. His white eyes glance at Tommy's wings but his mouth stays shut. He’s gripping a blooming blue crystal. 

Tommy quietly takes a slice, thanking Phil as he curls against Techno, who’s already sitting with a slice and sweet berries. Techno wraps a wing behind Tommy as he does so, making no remarks aside from the slightest twitch as the corners of his mouth. Phil grabs his own slice as Ghostbur stows away the rest of the dessert. He moves to sit on the other side of the youngest, replacing the blue in his hand with a new crystal. Phil watches out of the corner of his eye as Ghostbur’s wax-melting wing curls behind Techno’s. A saddened warmth blooms in Phil’s chest as he looks over his sons, none of them acknowledging his watch. A small smile starts to form as Ghostbur and Techno start innocently bickering over nothing, playfully worded jabs with no bite behind them as Tommy does his best to keep his snickering quiet. 

Despite whatever his kids go through, they still manage to laugh and smile. With the hell all of them have persevered through they still managed to keep strong, even if they couldn’t make it to the end. This still counts.

  
  


Phil says heartfelt goodnights to both Tommy and Techno as they finish and clean their dishes. No one comments as Phil pressed a soft kiss against Tommy’s forehead, lingering just a second before Tommy backs up, eyes shut as he sways slightly. Techno moves forward, glancing at Tommy before turning back to Phil. The teen has a loose grip on Techno’s cloak as Phil places a hand behind Techno’s head, pressing their foreheads together. He watches as Techno pulls back, putting a hand against Tommy's shoulder and leading the tired teen upstairs. 

Ghostbur watches as well, give enthusiastic waves to both of them as they tread out of the room. Once they're both upstairs, the ghost turns to Phil giving a smile as he holds out a small crystal. Phil takes it with a strained smile, words tumbling over and over in his head. Finally, with his words and thoughts settled, he sighs.

"Ghostbur, can you come with me? I'd like to have a chat with you."

_ "Sure thing, Phil! I've got to say, though, the way you said that isn't very encouraging."  _

Phil chuckles as he throws on another, warmer coat, stepping outside as Ghostbur follows. His legs still haven't revaporated.

_ “Where are we going?” _

“Not far, we can sit on the steps if you’d like.”

With that, Wilbur plops down on the top step, wings hanging loosely behind him. Phil sits beside him, letting out a soft sigh as he looks at the cornflower blue in his hand. Ghostbur places a cold hand over Phil’s, an encouraging smile.

_ “Are you alright, Phil? You seem nervous.” _

“No, no, it’s alright, Wil… I just…” He pauses, mulling over his thoughts.

Phil glances down, moonlight shining through Ghostbur’s translucent skin, “Have you ever thought about…” He trails, Ghostbur looking closely at his face. Discomfort coils in Phil’s chest, wings shifting as he thinks over his words again and again and again. Finally, the words force themselves out of his mouth, pained and quiet and not his. 

“Have you ever thought about coming back? Being… being revived?”


	2. Within The Infinite Skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the person who said they cant wait for this chapter, thank you, you waiting pushed me to complete this and im very thankful that you enjoy my writing that much :)

Phil eyes the ghost as he stiffens, wings falling still. He seems to blank, an empty, longing stare as he looks at their hands. Ghostbur takes a stuttered breath before shaking his head, his touch beginning to freeze Phil's palm. 

_ "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Phil." _

"I understand that Wil, but I just–" Phil falters, struggling with getting his words in order as the cold touch of Wilbur begins to ache. 

"We need you, Wilbur. We miss you– _ Tommy _ misses you. You can't, w-we can't…" He chokes on his words. He forces his eyes up, locking with the blank slates of Ghostbur's. The closer he looks, the more he sees specks of blue, the faintest hint of pupils encased in a ring of earth. Emotions boil behind a white screen and just like that, they settle.

_ "Im sorry, Phil, but I don't… Wilbur doesn't want to come back, he– I– we don't… "  _ The ghost stutters, shaking his head. Exasperation takes over Phil as he feels his loosening grip on his emotions spiral. He nearly misses the weak whisper escape the ghost.

_ "I think he's scared. He doesn't want to come back." _

A weak sigh passes Phil's lips.  _ He doesn't want to come back, he doesn't want to come back.  _ Agonizing aches pulse in his chest. The writhing mess of emotions finally slipping, reality's ugly face forcing him to rot from his heart out. 

"Wil… I can't… I don't know Tommy like you do, I can't take care of Tommy like you did, and I swear to you I'm trying but I don't know him." His voice cracks as reality burrows into his skull, barely speaking its truth above a whisper. "We need you Wilbur,  _ I _ need you,  _ Tommy _ needs you. You always wrote to me how he was, how much you cared. I–I need your help, Wil. I really need your help." A weak, pained whine forces its way into his words. He does his best to steel his emotions as they boil over, his vision blurring as Ghostbur silently opens Phil's palm, a cold crystal placed in his grasp.

_ "I'm sorry dad, it's not time yet."  _ Phil doesn't move as Ghostbur rests his head against his shoulder. He doesn't move as Ghostbur slowly flickers out of sight, the solid body resting against his nothing more than a small breeze passing by. He glances down at the crystal, watching as dark plumes of blue steadily swirl and fill its clear confines. 

_ Yet. _

__

Times crawls as he sits on the porch, letting his tears track down his face until no more could fall. He enters the house quietly, no noise coming from him or the house. His hands thread up into his hair as he collapses onto the cushions before the weak fire. 

_ Yet. _

He's holding onto threads, bare promises unsaid and uncertain. He's trapped in the box of a single word said by a dead man. 

_ Yet… _

  
  
  


White eyes open to a blank sky, a wide field of blooming dandelions and oxeye daisies greeting him. A tall figure stands before him, long jacket flapping in a nonexistent wind. His kind yellow sweater only interrupted by the bloody slash along his front. Tired earthy eyes greet him behind circular glasses. Proud, lengthy hawk wings curl behind his figure, barely hindered unlike his jacket. His voice is soft and welcoming as he speaks, a smile matching his eyes.

"Hello, Ghostbur."

The ghost only smiles, nearly mimicking the lively-looking man.

_ "Hello, Wilbur." _

  
  


Their steps are silent as they walk towards a never-ending horizon, the light never setting and the air never frosting. They talk quietly as they pass other figures, human and hybrid and animal. Wilbur only stops at one figure: a young cow with short horns, a small red band tied around the base of one. They smile as the cow moves her head further into Wilbur's palm as he runs a hand over her head. 

"Hello, Henry, I bet Tommy would love to see you so happy.", Wilbur mumbles more to himself than anyone around. The thought, however, sparks a memory slowly being stifled in the ghost.

_ "Tommy misses you. So does Phil."  _ He watches as Wilbur slows his movements, turning his head up slightly. A sign to continue.

_ "Phil said he needs your help with Tommy. He told me that Dream mangled his wings, they look the part too. Phil told me not to mention them, that it'd make Tommy upset."  _

Wilbur takes the silence to think, mulling over every word passing the ghost. 

"Phil wanting me back to baby Tommy doesn't amount to what I did, if I come back just for that I'd probably be hunted down to atone for what I did." 

_ "He misses you. He needed a lot of blue." _

"Him missing me won't be enough to bring me back."

_ "Tommy misses you, he's changed a lot, really for the worst. He's nothing like who he was when you two first came here. I… I think he's going to get worse."  _ He feels the way his memory attempts to muffle his thoughts, smothering them with hollow clouds of blue. 

"What do you mean you think he's getting worse?" Wilburs attempts to mask the concern ebbing into his voice fails, his wings shifting uncomfortably against his back. He still doesn't know how to use them. All bite and no bark. 

_ "He's just… He's not shining anymore. His blue is so much more darker than everyone else's. It's–it feels tormented when I hold it."  _ Ghostbur attempts to explain, the words barely amounting to the genuine emotions that spiral and snake within the jagged crystals he holds. 

Wilbur's heart aches at the thought, a teetering pain balancing him between life and death. He watches as Ghostbur looks around before locking eyes onto a blue woolen sheep walking by, waving him a quick goodbye before leaving. He turns his attention back towards Henry, who was resting her head against his thigh. 

He slumps, laying beside Henry and sighing, a thin hand running up his curly hair and into his beanie. He goes back to petting the cow, looking off the unending plain. His eyes shut, the ache worsening the more he thinks, festering into the scar across his front. 

Memories he's long since repressed burrow behind his eyes, forcing him to remember. 

  
  


_ He watches in awe as his father swoops above him and his brother, his speed and momentum blowing their hair back. He can't help the excited gasp he lets out as he watches massive wings unfurl and slow his landing. As soon as his feet touch earth, two boys race towards him, their own wings fluttering as they grapple onto green cloth.  _

_ Yellow haze and twisting faces hide his father's expression. Bright laughter muddled with childish yells. Childhood filled with watching the skies and looking up, wishing to feel the clouds. _

  
  


_ A forgotten nightmare forcing him awake, hiccuping sobs as he twists in his sheets. Despite his best attempts at calming himself, his breath hitches. He's rubbing his eyes, forcing the tears away as his bedroom door opens. His childish panic drains as his father's arms wrap around him, gently coaxing him relief as they sway. _

_ "Shh, shh. It's okay, Songbird, you're okay, it was only a nightmare, I promise. You're okay, you're safe." He whispers tiredly, black feathers encasing them in a soft hold. His smaller wings shiver tight against his back, fear forcing them to quiver. Songbird.  _

_ Clouds lit up with moonlight crawl through the sky outside. Wings too weak to fly shaking under a roof. Quiet tears falling down as the moon follows, an endless pass forced to watch.  _

  
  


_ The piercing cries of an infant draw his attention from the window, exhaustion carving into his eyes as he picks up the little blond-haired bundle. His infatuation with watching his father and twin practice-flying distracted him from the newest family member. It was his job while they were outside, the utmost important thing he can do. Even if he's got things he'd rather be doing, like practicing his flight or guitar, he's got to take care of the new baby.  _

_ "It's okay, Toms, only a little bit longer and then dad'll be back. He'll know what to do, I promise." He rubs a cool finger against the heating face of his younger brother, methodical movements slow and calming. _

_ He does his best to soothe the screaming, managing to quiet it into weak sniffling as he rocks the bundle slowly. He's all too aware of the little undeveloped wings trying to move in their wool confines against his arms. The thought makes his face twist. He turns his head back to the window, doing his best to ignore the way the baby holds his fingers tightly.  _

_ Darkening skies, clouds no longer kind and soft, now an angry, turmoiled grey as wind howls. Two figures racing inside, laughing. The bright sun locked behind rain-filled clouds. Neglected wings more comfortable taut against his back rather than open and free.  _

Neglected. Neglected and left to tend to an infant before he even started practicing flying. Grounded upon Phil's request to have him take care of a baby he didn't want. Years and years of taking care of himself and a child to the point he's sure Phil forgot he never taught him anything. He left his muscles too weak, unusable for flight. Left nothing but feathers for show, which quiver with sudden disdain as he runs a hand against Henry's jaw. As quick as the hatred appears he forces it out, blowing a heavy breath before inhaling. He shakes his head, desperate to think about something else.

Tommy. He'd rather think about Tommy. The boy  _ he _ raised, the boy he cares about the most. The boy that admired him on a pedestal, that stuck up for him and held onto him all throughout life. Wilbur was the one who watched Tommy grow, he was the one that would've defended Tommy no matter what. Before the election, before Pogtopia, he would've sworn the world for his brother. His stupidly brave little brother, shot in the head and stabbed in the back by one man. 

It was never Tommy's fault, he was unfair to the teenager, taking out his anger and emotions on him when he was only trying to help. He’d been grasping at frayed threads of a man no longer himself. In the blinding insanity he’d spiraled into, he praised the man who drove him there, acted like he was the only light he’d seen. He’d never once turned around and saw the sun following behind him at every step, every word, every god-awful night he’d spent stuck in that ravine. 

He really owed Tommy something for dealing with it all. 

He’d gone through Hell because of Wilbur, from the impending threat of death to the battles to the… The Pit.

Guilt rips into his chest, making him wince.  _ The godsdamned Pit.  _ That _ – _ That was the final snap. Watching his twin pummel their baby brother was the final straw to snap. No matter what he does to block out the memory, it always resurfaces, the terrified face of Tommy permanently seared behind his eyelids haunts him now. The bloodlust from Techno was unsurprising, but the willingness he had at Tommy's challenge threw him off. A child, their younger brother, angry and vengeful and blinded by loyalty. 

He hopes Techno's making up what he did to Tommy. He deserves a break. 

He was torn between his thoughts on Techno. No contact with his twin for years left both of them changed, mentally and physically. It was staggering to see his brother climb down the thin stairs into the ravine, led by Tommy. He thought the reunion would've been nicer, but fate wasn't kind to them. With nothing but shreds of his sanity, he'd been colder and less that untrusting towards their brother. Whenever he thinks of Pogtopia, he's forced to see his brother's wings, proud and powerful and useful. Jealousy always stung his throat at the sight, even he can admit it was pitiful. 

Thoughts and emotions force themselves out in anger, pricks of annoyance stabbing into his chest as he attempts to calm down. Crashing waves of irritation stagger as he settles them, forcing himself to focus on the soft fur under his fingers as he looks at Henry. The cow was unbothered by him, comfortably laying on her side. He eyes the little red ribbon, remembering how gentle and quiet Tommy was when he tied it around her horn. 

It was endearing, seeing how passive the usually loud and rambunctious teen was when he was dealing with the cow. Seeing him mope around the ravine after her death was bitter to see, even more after his death where he can watch her wander aimlessly.

He sighs, looking up. The unending white afternoon is something he still has yet to be accustomed to, no blue or purple or yellow skies. As much as he'd rather spend time awake at night admiring the stars in life, he can't have that anymore. 

He can't have a lot of the things he liked in life here. 

He can't have his guitar, or his friends, or the moonlight here. 

He can't have his family here, despite how dysfunctional he left them. 

He can't have Phil or Techno here.

He can't have Tommy here.

He misses them. He misses Tommy, his guitar, the moonlight. As much as he hates to think about it, he misses things from life. He misses things he can't have, he misses the comforting feeling of fire warming his skin, he misses the feeling of actual wind blowing against him. 

He can't go back, he'd be put on trial if he's lucky, and even that's too much hopeful thinking. Surely people would hunt him down if he came back, even if he's changed, even if he's able to prove he's not the husk he was in that ravine, he'd get what he deserves. He can't put his family in danger just because they miss him, that'd be irresponsible, and he's anything but irresponsible. 

Even if Phil wants him back because he doesn't know how to take care of Tommy, it's not his problem anymore– it  _ shouldn't  _ be his problem anymore. No matter how much he loves Tommy and only wants him to get better, him being around wouldn't help. Even if Wilbur raised Tommy, even if he knows every minuscule detail about Tommy and every detail of his phobias and issues, would his presence even be welcomed back? Stupid question. 

Stupid thoughts. 

He leans over Henry, resting his cheek against the cow. 

"This is stupid, Henry. I hate this, why does thinking have to hurt so much?" He mumbles, the wound in his chest aching. 

"I really do miss them, and as much as I'd like to be with them again, I don't think it'd be safe for any of us. Anyway, I doubt anyone's found a way to resurrect the dead." He pauses, eyes looking down at slightly curly fur. He does his best to ignore the damaged hooves and legs tucked under Henry, the sight of it making his stomach churn. 

"Well, maybe someone would know away, but who would want to play with that kind of magic? Seems like playing god, really." 

He's interrupted by Henry mooing, her ears flopping as they twitch back. He can't stop the sad smile from forming on his face.

"It'd be nicer if you could go back, wouldn't it? I bet Tommy would be ecstatic. Probably would talk non-stop about you to Phil or something."

He watches as Henry bumps her snout into his palm. 

"Yeah, probably. He'd be happier to see you than me." With a stuttered breath, he places a hand over his chest, rubbing slightly in an attempt to soothe the constant ache. It doesn't work. 

It never works. He gives up, opting to lay against Henry, smiling at the way she sniffs at him before resting her head down. Shutting his eyes, he feels the way the flowers encase around them, a mockery of safety in a dangerless world. Where his heart should beat is an empty cavern, hollowed for importance that no longer exists. Had it been there, it would slow, letting him rest in a way he'd seen Tommy do more than once. 

He's thought about living, only for dark thoughts to drag the glimmer of hope down into the earth. As much as he'd like to see the things he misses, he doesn't want to see them here. If they're here that means something's gone wrong, that something cut life short before it could bloom. 

He doesn't like that idea.

He takes a deep breath, the smell of flowers filling his nose. He feels the need to apologize. He has to apologize but he can't. He's just stuck in the afterlife, stuck in an infinite flower field. 

He's so tired. He's tired of being  _ here _ . 

He just wants to sleep. Or to see Tommy again.

He misses Tommy more than he likes. 

He really misses Tommy.

Sleep overtakes him, the ache along his front numbing into a dull thumping. Empty, blank dreams and muddled thoughts blend and mix together, nothing more than hollow hopes tangling his mind in a sad waltz. 

He misses Tommy.


End file.
